Lies and Promises: Chapter 1
by LadyMaxwell
Summary: A Lady and a farmer's son have always been best friends, but as the classical plot of her having to find a suitor unfolds, what lengths will Tristan go to win over her father?


The birds sang their glory as the sun began to rise above the horizon. Splinters of russet-gold and ripe orange spilt across the land, as if putting the entire Winedale Estate underneath a single ray of sunlight. I watched as my home woke, the colors not only warm in hue, but they filled me with a warmth that spread out through my veins in a rush of energy. The stone window sill that supported my weight was cool and lifeless beneath my folded arms. I witnessed the graceful, sleek movement of the clouds as they slid across the canvas of sky that turned more and more blue by the second, like an expert artist with their favorite brush and paint. My mind was blank of thought, though open to it, and I was completely and totally at peace. No worries; no issues; no suitors for this day. It was another great morning and if only I had not been so naive and optimistic to believe that it would always be so, I wouldn't of had the rude awakening that Fate delivered me.

~*~

I studied her from afar. Her graceful limbs folded neatly upon the stone sill of her window; her smile clenching my heart with an iron fist; her eyes so deeply blue, that they made the oceans cry in envy; her skin the perfect shade of ivory and looking to be as soft as velvet; her hair the brilliant color of mixed hues of umber, each curling strand begging to be tucked behind an ear or captured between fingertips. She was confident, at peace, and the most beautiful creature I have ever set eyes on. Her window overlooked the gardens and that is where I found myself, meandering aimlessly through the rows of roses and lilies. Their fragrances were wonderful, but nothing in comparison to the rose oil that extracted from her hair and the natural essence of strawberries that seemed to linger in her wake. Taking my attention away from the rows of flowers, I allowed my eyes to drift over the great castle of Winedale. The castle was formed of great, unshaped forms of limestone and blocks of timber. The inside was elaborately furnished with tapestries dating back to the first ancestors that lived at this place.

The Hall was large and the center of the establishment. The bailey opened from the front doors of the Hall and at least one or two carts and about a score of people could be seen occupying it. The court was in the back, a great area of ancient tiles, bordering oaks, and tables and chairs dotted the perimeter. Noblemen and their ladies flocked in their social circles day in and day out in this rather elaborate spot. This great plane of space used for dancing, midnight frescos, and private meetings was one of my favorite parts of the estate. This was where I could usually spot Angelique wandering, avoiding people, and something inside me told me that she was looking for me and me only. We could pull away into a more private place amongst the hedges, on a worn stone bench, and talk about anything and everything. Sometimes I would be graced by her presence even at the stables when I tended to my horse and she would share her innocent hopes and dreams of the future like we always did when we were younger. Now at ten and nine winters, I was expected to have a wife, a permanent place in a business or a place in the Lord's Guard and a child or two, but things were more than complicated. The woman of my dreams was the young Lady of the House with a promising dowry that only the best of the elite deserved and were eligible for. This easily left me out of the situation.

Spiraling down back to reality from my fantasies, I looked up in time to lock eyes with a pair of startling blue orbs. I seemed to be paralyzed, unflinching, grappling for the strength to look down, move on, to at least run. But I did not move, did not remove my gaze. She was my best friend, but as she had turned ten and four, currently ten and six, winters old, things had changed rapidly.


End file.
